


The Shadowed Saviors of Ravnica

by Chulane



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Amonkhet (Magic: The Gathering), Azorius Senate, Boros Legion (Magic: The Gathering), Canon Universe, Card Games, Dominaria (Magic: The Gathering), Elves, Evil, Gen, Golgari Swarm, Gruul Clans, House Dimir, Izzet League, Kaladesh (Magic: The Gathering), Mad Scientists, Orzhov Syndicate (Magic: The Gathering), Plot Hole Fix, Political Intrigue, Pre-Canon, Pre-War of the Spark, Ravnica (Magic: The Gathering), Shapeshifter, Simic Combine, Spies, The Gatewatch (Magic: The Gathering), Vedalken, War of the Spark, reprogramed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chulane/pseuds/Chulane
Summary: I received this collection of tales from Tamiyo, a good friend of mine. It is a collection of stories about a man named Lazav in the times leading up to the War of the Spark.
Kudos: 2





	1. Vannifar, Guardian of Innovation

**Author's Note:**

> If any of y'all see some plot things I missed, let me know! And come hit me up at https://chulane-teller-of-memes.tumblr.com/

10,074 Z.C. Winter  
Ravnica - Tenth District, Precinct 2, Zonot 3, near the Adaptionist main office  
Vannifar - Elf Ooze Hybrid

Vannifar was enraged, indignant, infuriated! Something was coming, she knew it, everyone knew it! The very air of Ravnica felt the coming storm, Azorius? Boros? Golgari? Orzhov? Anyone of these guilds had the potential to start a war, to form alliances and create enemies, to cause mass destruction. This was only the calm before the storm, though calm would not be a word Vannifar would use to describe the current climate. There were riots in the streets from the guildless, Rakdos and Dimir went unchecked as violent clashes between the other guilds kept their attention. For the first time in Vannifar's memory, the Gruul clans had gained ground and pushed to the edge of Izzet territory. Yet still, Zegana and her damn Utopian faction were content to sit and wait for their deaths. Well, Vannifar wasn’t, her guild was dying, her work was dying, she was not going to let everything she made be swallowed up in the coming storm.  
Vannifar had been so preoccupied she had not noticed him till she was 3 feet in front of him.  


“Oh, hello Zonot speaker.” The elf before her was young, having ascended to his position not even two years ago, he was known for having distinctive manta ray-like flippers attached to his arms and for always having a gleeful smile. Vannifar disliked him, and not just because he was a staunch Utopianite.  


The elf didn’t reply, he wasn’t even moving, his eyes were fixed staring forward, attentive, but not actually seeing, his smile was as wide as ever.  


“Go on, Zonot speaker, greet the miss.”  


Vannifar spun around, “Hello Miss Vanifar!” Vannifar had never seen him before, but she knew the myths, a swirling black cloak of Auroch fur, the Dimir insignia on his clasp, the white hair, and withered skin. Lazav Dimir Guild Master, Lazav Shadow Scourge of Ravnica. His mouth silently moved in sync with the elf’s voice. “How are you, Prime Speaker Vannifar?”  


Vannifar had let no fear show on her face, but she couldn’t keep a little surprise from showing in it. She looked over her shoulder to the elf and then back to Lazav, he wasn’t saying anything, only standing there, no emotion on the parts of his face that were left unobscured. He had asked a question and he was waiting for Vannifar to answer.  


Her eyes fell as she thought. What was she willing to trade? What was she willing to give? What was she willing to do? Would she betray the Simic? Her guild?  


No. She would not betray her guild.  


Vannifar looked up and stared with determination written on her face. “What are your demands?”  


She would save it.  


"Your research,” he didn’t hesitate to reply. “Every shred of information you will possess, I want access to it. I won’t ask for loyalty or anything you cannot give. But I will take no less than what I have said.”  


Vannifar stared down Lazav. Whatever it takes.  


“Only what I currently possess, no future research." It wasn't a question.  


Lazav smiled, "I don't want what you possess now, High Scientist Vannifar. I want what you will have once you are Prime Speaker." He shrugged, "but your terms are fair, I would be fine with that."  


Vannifar paused, she gave the smallest of nods.  


Lazav bowed his head solemnly, and with a smile. Then he pulled from his cloak a small dagger. He slowly brought the knife down on his outstretched palm at one point of a very deep scar that ran across it. He followed along the scar, carefully cutting it open once more. His hands shook as he did so. When he had finished he offered the knife to Vannifar.  


She took it and considered it. It will have been for nothing. With a quick motion and a steady hand she precisely cut her hand in the same way Lazav had. No blood came out, only the slight ooze of blue slime.  


She looked at Lazav, the half of his face she could see told her nothing. Not even a hint of emotion. They gripped hands and made the contract. Once finished Vannifar looked up, Lazav had a kind smile on, not a hint of malice. Vannifar glared, stony-faced.  


"Begin." She commanded.  


Lazav's smile became mischievous. "The Golgari," he walked casually towards her. "They have always believed that anything that lies below the cobblestones is their property, their inheritance." With a cold wind, he passed Vannifar to reach the young speaker. "Jarad Vod Savo's popularity is waning, and he knows that even as a Lich, he is not truly immortal." Lazav ran his finger down the boy's face as if checking for dust.  


Vannifar watched carefully, trying to absorb as much information as possible from the spy.  


Lazav gently took hold of the Simic leader's cheeks and turned his face side to side, inspecting it, he tucked a bit of hair behind his ear. "In a couple of weeks, maybe months, he will launch an attack on the sinkhole you call Zonot 3." He spoke the word sinkhole with contempt, not much of an insult thought Vannifar, as the Zonot was an actual sinkhole.  


"Move your forces here in the name of defense." Lazav circled his toy, "and when he attacks do not aid Zegana, not until she begs you to." He stopped and pulled the boy's shirt down to expose his shoulder. Vannifar stiffened as she watched him feel along the boy's neck. He didn’t continue speaking.  


Vannifar stuck her nose up, "so be it."  


Lazav seemed like he didn't even hear, using two fingers he pulled the boy's shirt back up like he was a fragile doll, the movement was so gentle, motherly even. He titled his head and smiled at his prisoner with fatherly pride. Vannifar hated it.  


They stood in silence as Lazav took in his creation, like an artist looking at his finished masterpiece. Finally, Lazav gave a fluttery sigh and turned to smile at Vannifar. Like they were partners, that shared a common bond. She sneered.  


"Once you have taken your place as Guild Master I will come for my half of the bargain." Lazav was walking towards her, and once he was side by side with her he stopped, clicking his heels together, like a soldier. He leaned sidewards and whispered in Vannifar's ear.  


"I expect detailed reports on all of your projects," Vannifar's face hardened, there were more than a few incriminating ‘projects’ she’d worked on.  


Lazav snapped his fingers and the elven boy turned and walked away from them. "It's been a pleasure," the boy announced happily, even as Vannifar felt Lazav's breath on her neck.  


And then, he left, Vannifar didn’t turn to look but she knew that without a sound he had vanished from behind her. She stared at the back of the junior speaker. She watched him turn a corner.  


She was left alone. To contemplate what she had done. Vannifar realized her hands shook slightly, she steadied herself. What had disturbed her so much? Was it his facades? How despite how sincere he acted she knew that everything he said could and almost certainly was a lie?  


No.  


It was the boy. The way he had looked at him with overwhelming pride. How he treated him like an object, not a living being. It had been heartless, inhuman. The face he had made observing something he’d created, that he considered nothing more than another well-bred pet; it was the exact same face Vannifar had worn many times in her life.


	2. Dovin Baan, Focused Architect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dovin Baan, so intelligent, so forward thinking, and yet... He takes Bolas at his word?

10,075 Z.C Spring  
Ravnica - Tenth District, Precinct 2, New Prahv, Lyev Column  
Dovin Baan - Vedalken Planeswalker

Dovin could not believe how useless his assistant was, leaving early because his mother and father were visiting. Why Dovin's mother would have slapped him silly if he had used her as an excuse to not finish his work. Dovin sighed and as he had held one half of his mind on Azorius Code 13 section 60B, 'recruitment of prisoners,' he allowed the other half to dwell on the thought of parents.

His mother had been harsh and strict with him, she never actually hit Dovin, but Dovin suspected that it was only because since he was 2 he knew that it accomplished nothing to disobey her. He wondered how she was now, before the revolution she had been a prominent member of the consul staff; though technically only an assistant, she had held great sway on the consul, yet with no official title, she could have easily escaped from the rebels bloody cleansing of the government. Had she planned for it to be that way? She could have if so Dovin was impressed by her foresight. She had always been Dovin's idol, Dovin did not try to imitate her, as she had many flaws, but he did believe her to be a good rough model to start from. Some of her larger faults included her tendency to indulge in vices, specifically, embroidery and knitting. She would spend hours making the most useless things, small knitted animals, or impractical hats which she would sell for penny's(or force them on Dovin) when she could have been doing something much more productive.

Dovin's father had only ever served as an example of what not to do in life, he was a dead beat, that though marginally intelligent had no motivation. She had divorced him when Dovin was 13, “about time” had been Dovin's thoughts on the matter. Though, no matter how impractical she was, Dovin would never deny the fact that he loved his mother, and that she loved him.

The first time Dovin had planeswalked he had found himself among the moon folk of Kamigawa. He spent over 2 Kaladeshian years there reading through their awe-inspiring library, he even had time to reorganize the whole library to maximize efficiency. When he finally returned to Kaladesh he had found his mother in a pitiful state. She had spent over a year searching for him until she had given up. She had left her job and cut herself off from everyone she knew, to stay in her room and cry. When Dovin finally returned she had made him sit in her room for hours while she hugged him and cried tears of joy. Kaladesh Vedalkens are sensitive to saltwater, and he still remembered looking down at his arms and being surprised to see purple marks where not only her but his own tears had stained his skin. 

Suddenly, Dovin had the horrible realization that he had stopped reading the document and even worse, was crying.

He immediately stopped doing so, he had not cried since that day 42 years ago and did not plan to ever do it again. He stood and moved to the small mirror on the back of his office door. Sure enough, there were two thin streaks of purple running down his face. He did not wipe them away, as it would have smeared them, instead he gently dabbed them away with a folded cloth retrieved from his breast pocket.

He stood up straight and looked himself in the eye. Just wait mother, I will return. And when I do, I will have the power to fix Kaladesh. This is what Bolas had promised Dovin, the ability to make his own plane, to reshape Kaladesh into as close to perfection as possible. It made him giddy thinking about how he would organize street names in a multi-tiered city. Though even as Dovin dreamed of the sewer system and architecture codes, he could not help feel that sense of dread, like an animal, gnawing at him.

"Tears? From you?" Dovin turned quickly to see a short man standing near his office's small porthole window. The man continued, "it truly is unbecoming of someone of your status. You are head of the Lyev Column, I'd say it's only a matter of time until you surpass Isperia, and then you’ll be running this whole guild."

Dovin looked straight at the hooded man's face, though most of his face was hidden by his black hood, he could see the scar-torn face and white hair. He knew who this was.

"Hello Lazav, it is a pleasure to meet you. Though I do wonder how you made it into here." He asked while he folded and returned the cloth to its place.

The Dimir guild master shrugged and gestured to the locked porthole. "The window."

Dovin’s eyes narrowed, though this man seemed relaxed and friendly, Dovin could see that his every movement was planned and that he was already prepared with defensive magics humming ever so slightly in his left arm.

Lazav smiled.

"I was just wondering how you were adjusting? To your new life here… on Ravnica."

Dovin showed no sign of a reaction… during his time with him, Tezzeret had mentioned running a business on Ravnica, and from Tamiyo, a planeswalker he met on Kamigawa, he had learned that a lot of technology from other planes had found their way to Ravnica, after some investigating he had deduced that the once-powerful black market group called the Infinite Consortium was, in fact, a group of planeswalkers led by Tezzeret stealing technology from one plane and selling them on others. Realizing that Kaladesh’s filigree designs could be recognized by some as from a different plane, Baan had changed the design of his thopters to be different from the typical Kaladesh model, however, it was unavoidable that the inner-workings remained the same 

Dovin looked at Lazav with less hostility now, Lasav was a threat, yes, but he was also a worthy opponent to match wits with.

"You will find that you will leave disappointed." If Lazav was aware of Kaladesh technology then he must have been very involved or well aware of the movements of the infinite consortium, meaning he knew of other planes and Tezzeret himself. Meaning almost certainly he is aware of Nicol Bolas, even if not then, he easily could be now, though Dovin had taken great care to guard his mind against intrusion, he doubted very much if Kaya or Rade had; though they had known very little of the plan. No, Dovin believed Lazav was here for information, he could not penetrate Baan's mental defenses and had decided to take a more direct approach. “You will find I am not so easy to influence.”

Lazav looked directly at Baan, he was quiet as if considering it, this was a tactic. “No one can know the future…" he spoke slowly with a smooth suave voice. "Despite whatever plans we make we can never guarantee they will succeed.”

Oh great a speech.

He continued, “a thousand things could go wrong, a missed decimal, improperly disseminated information, a loose gear in the ranks, the sudden appearance of a new party.” Planeswalkers. “You’ll find running a guild isn’t always easy. Though admittedly I see it more than most, all of Ravnica is filled with deceit and lies, you rarely can be sure if what you are told is reality… or just another lie, to get ahold of another pawn.”

He knew. He must have learned from another planeswalker, Ral Zerik maybe? Or perhaps he knew Bolas personally… the dragon had warned Baan specifically of Lazav. He was taunting Dovin trying to draw him into an emotional slip of the tongue… or was he here for more than just information.

“We can do nothing for each other. Leave.” Baan spoke with his trademarked and prided levelness.

Lazav wiggled a finger at Dovin, “don’t be so quick to assume.” he had lazily strolled over to Dovin’s desk and was glancing at the neatly piled documents on it with disinterest. “How does Bolas plan to keep the planeswalkers on Ravnica?”

He’d dropped pretense, another tactic to shake his opponent. Dovin did not react. Lazav starred at Dovin as if thinking. 

“He won’t keep his promise.” Dovin’s left-hand's third finger twitched involuntarily.

“You are mistaken.” That was a mistake, Dovin had just confirmed that he was an agent of Bolas and so many other things.

“Will he now?” Lazav walked back around to the front of Baan’s desk. “Admittedly I do not know much about the dragon, but according to other’s description, loyalty was certainly not a tenet typically assigned to him.” Lazav removed his hood, underneath he revealed blank white staring eyes and even more scars running across his face. Lazav was a shapeshifter, the appearance was assumedly crafted specifically for Lazav’s intentions.

“Do you have a Contract?” Dovins finger twitched again, Lazav advanced. “Do you have it magically bound?” Dovins hand twitched, Lazav reminded him of a battalion moving to charge forward. “Do you have it in writing?” Dovin shifted, Lazav had reached the frontline. “Did he even give you his word?” Dovin’s back pressed against the mirror.

Dovin was breathing heavily as if the two feet he’d backed up had been equivalent to a lone survivor returning miles to a home in ruins. Dovin spluttered out, “he, he-”

“He was a god!” Lazav roared. “But he was a God among Gods. He was not supreme, but now he is threatening to be the lone God of the multiverse, the unchallenged Lord of existence!” Lazav shouted and looked down at Dovin with intense furry. Dovin’s usually imperturbable face was being tainted with wide-eyed fear.

“He does not need you! Once his plan is in motion you will be yet another soul he eats! He will devour us in handfuls, and he will not even notice your taste…” Lazav stopped talking, his face an inch from Dovin's, his back hunched over to be level. He stared into Dovin’s red eyes. He straightened. And loomed well over a foot above Dovin with contempt written on his face.  
Dovin couldn’t see Lazav, he was too preoccupied, watching his world die; in his mind, he was watching the streets crumble and fall upon families below, he saw airships losing aether and crashing into homes, he saw stone mold like food and waste away causing towers to crumble and fall; he saw hoards of Lazotep plated undead. Marching not through his improved Kaladesh, but the streets of his childhood. He felt the walls tumbling around him, each wall shaking his mind, revealing obvious truths, truths Dovin had ignored for the dream of a utopia. Dovin had known, all along he had known, he had known that-

"It was all too good to be true." Dovin looked up to see Lazav looking down into his eyes, his face was more relaxed, almost sympathetic. Dovin had not even noticed the presence of him in his mind, watching his world burn with him.

They stared into each other's eyes, unknowable white, and cornered red. Lazav’s face looked so human up close, even if the scars brought forth notions of necromancy, his hair did not seem white with magic but with age. They stood like that for minutes, until Dovin’s neck ached from craning it upward. Lazav broke the silence.

“Compose yourself.” Lazav turned away from him, so Dovin could have privacy while he did so. It took Dovin 26 seconds and four deep breaths. He then straightened his back, and compartmentalized his fears, he felt his face return, his own face. That had been more than just ignorance, he thought, Dovin's mind had been forced to not even consider that possibility, the possibility that Bolas could betray him, that Dovin could betray Bolas.

Dovin cleared his throat, “my thanks for removing those.” Lazav had wandered to the window again and was looking out on the city.

“I didn’t remove Bolas’ mental tricks from your mind.” Dovin thought and believed that Lazav planned to wipe Dovin’s memories of this, to make Dovin a double agent without even Dovin knowing.

Dovin sighed, “while I am sure to most you are a very skilled telepath, I assure you that you are nothing when compared to Bolas.”

Lazav gave his own sigh, “perhaps, but we must try.” 

Dovin’s death had been cemented the moment Lazav had brought down Bolas’ mental inhibitors. At some point, Dovin was sure he would stand and face the Dragon and he would easily find the proof of his treachery in Dovin’s mind. 

“His plan… what weaknesses does it have?” Lazav asked looking out the window.

Dovin had thought over and over Bolas’ plan hundreds of times, and at the time he had seen zero flaws, no chance of failure. But now Dovin saw it for what it was, a sturdy tower that while a single brick removed would not cause it to fall, it did not mean it was unmovable.

“I can think of many that could delay him, but none that would foil his plans, only his death would do so. And I do not know a single thing in existence that could kill him, except for himself.” Lazav muttered the word himself to himself as Dovin returned to his desk chair and sat with his hands together, thinking.

"Himself, his own magic. Where could we find something like that?"

"Dominaria, Amonkeht maybe? He is very old, there must be at least two powerful artifacts he has made out there." Dovin did not sound convinced.

Dovin looked down at the wood of his desk, "I believed we have already lost."

They were quiet.

“Your right, we have lost." Lazav’s voice had slowed, it was no longer commanding and smooth, it was becoming raspy and seemingly weathered by hardship, yet Dovin could hear the spark of an idea. "We've lost the battle, but not necessarily the war." 

Dovin felt resigned, defeated, he didn’t bother to respond, he could find no flaw, so he doubted Lazav could. 

Lazav moved from the window and sat in one of the wooden chairs in front of Dovin’s desk. He looked at Dovin.

“I covet you…” his eyes were fixed directly on Dovin’s, Dovin put up mental defenses. “I covet you planeswalkers, that you are truly free, that you are free to wander through this wide universe, to continually learn new things, find new surprises; each world you visit is entirely unique, unique in its geography, people, magic, weapons." He emphasized the last word. "There are no limits on what is possible out there… Somewhere, there is something that could do it. And what if each of these different complex worlds were united in the single goal of finding it.”

Dovin looked over the tops of his fingertips at the man, at what pretended to be a man. “It wouldn’t save Ravnica.”

Lazav nodded. “No… it wouldn’t. But what would happen if we let the planeswalkers of the multiverse find their way here, we allowed them to see the threat posed by Bolas, then we let them go. They will know that it is only time that stands between their homes and Bolas’ fire, they will scour the multiverse to find his weakness, and in years, potentially in lifetimes they will find a way to end him.”

Dovin studied the man, his plan seemed absurd, certainly risky, however, did they have another option? Dovin knew of nothing that could slay Bolas. But if Lazav’s plan worked, it would not be just Dovin looking. Every corner of the universe would hear and know of the threat posed by Bolas and know that the end was coming for them, every plane, every land, every person would know to prepare, to search for the answer that Dovin and Lazav lacked.

“Tezzeret.”

Lazav’s chin tilted upward, “explain.”

“The Immortal sun was designed by the Azorius Parun to trap Bolas on a single plain, permanently; it cannot be turned off. It is what Bolas intends to use to trap us here. Bolas will send the beacon first, then he himself will come. We will need to make sure the sun gets on and then off of Ravnica; and the only known way to do that is through the Planar Bridge, the very one implanted in Tezzeret's chest. We will need him.” Dovin’s voice was level, calculating. “However. Bolas has complete control over Tezzeret's mind. Even though Tezzeret thinks just the same as Bolas as we do, he has no free will to disobey his master.”

Lazav waved a hand “Bring him to Ravnica, and I will inspect his mind. I am well skilled at breaking and building minds,” Lasav’s voice was full of confidence.

“Very well,” Dovin agreed. “I will need to convince Vraska to give me his location though.”

“Easily overcome, though she may now be queen, she does not yet have control of the treasury. Hopefully, that will be enough.”

“I imagine it will, but what of my mind, how confident are you that he will not see through your walls?”

“Admittedly it is another thing we cannot guarantee,” Lazav looked momentarily disappointed. 

“Though it is a technique I learned from Jace Beleren, the only man I know to have survived a mental assault from the Dragon. Using his technique I should be able to hide your treachery from Bolas entirely."

“It will have to do.” Dovin didn’t like this. There were too many unknowns. They couldn’t be sure Vraska even knew where Tezzeret was, or whether they could get Tezzeret to Ravnica, they couldn’t know if Tezzeret would even help them. And would Lazav’s mind tricks hold against the most skilled telepath in the multiverse? They just couldn’t know. But there was no other option.  
They both sat thinking, brewing over the many uncertainties of the future. Dovin thought about how, even if they succeeded, the first plane Bolas would go to next would be Kaladesh to get a new Planar Bridge… What else would he do there? Dovin’s gaze shifted to Lazav, from his seat he was staring at the mirror on Dovin’s office door.

“Why do you care?”

Lazav turned to look at Dovin, his face showed amusement. He gave a single chuckle. “Well, he is coming to destroy my home, isn’t he? It's only natural I'd want him dead.”

Dovin’s face didn’t change, except that maybe his frown became slightly more pronounced. “Except if you cared for your plane you might have tried to save it, proposed ideas to give Ravnica more time before Bolas' arrival. Instead, you were so ready to sacrifice it. Our plan is not to save Ravnica, but to make it a martyr; you are not a planeswalker, you will be trapped in a barren world, devoid of any life.”

Lazav stared at Dovin, a smile faintly held on his lips. “I am very old Mr. Baan.” Lazav stood up slowly as if to emphasize the point. “I’ve walked these streets for millennia, and I’ve always been so happy to find that no matter how old I grow, no matter how much I think I know, Ravnica never fails to surprise.” He walked to the window, “I do love this plane. But we are pragmatists, you and I, and we know that Ravnica’s death is something we cannot change.” He looked out over the city, Dovin could see the smile on his gnarled face reflected in the glass. “I am yet to taste death, and I have no intention to. No. I plan to survive the conflict even if these streets do not.”

Dovin raised an eyebrow, “and you are confident that you can?”

Lazav’s face and voice seemed wistful, nostalgic even. "For a long time, I've had safe houses for if the Dimir house ever fell and Ravnica descended into a war I could not control. But after the events of the Implicit maze, I realized that my strong houses needed to be more than just a hiding spot. They needed to be a bunker." Lazav turned back to Dovin, "I assure you, I do not fear for my life."

Dovin stared into Lazav's unscrupulous face, Dovin doubted his assertion, but nothing in his face showed even the inclinations of a lie. Dovin nodded in acknowledgment and stood.

"Now is the best time to contact Vraska, she has only just returned. My lie of curiosity will be most believable now. I will send her a thopter now." Dovin spoke with renewed steadiness, it was not an airtight plan, but it was a plan.

Lazav nodded, and returned his hood to his head, "I will return tomorrow morning to perform my magic on your mind."

"Good," Dovin walked near Lazav and held out a steady hand. Lazav smiled, his teeth were perfect. He shook Dovin's hand.

"For the multiverse," Lazav said.

"For survival," Dovin corrected.


	3. Tibalt. Glutton of Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did Tibalt go all the way to Alara? How did Tibalt even know what plane and where on that plane Tezzeret had gone?

10,075 Z.C Autumn  
Ravnica - Offshoot of Tin Street  
Lazav - Shapeshifter, Dimir Guildmaster

Lazav hadn’t been surprised to find that the Planeswalker had no mental barriers, however, he had been surprised to find that the inside of Tibalt’s mind was like a pit of boiling lava. Lazav could only be inside it for a single second before he was forced to recoil from the psychic pain swarming through Tibalt’s mind. But Lazav hadn’t the time to go find another suitable candidate, and it was crucial that Tezzeret knew of the Gatewatch’s success. His own body shifted, his cloak changed from black to blue, white lines like tear streaks appeared on his face, his hair shortened and turned brown. Lazav waved his hand and the image of Chandra Nalaar walking alongside him appeared, they were close enough that Tibalt could hear them from his position on the nearby roof.

“Tezzeret loved Nicol Bolas more than anything else in the multiverse,” said what looked like Jace Beleren.

“You’re right,” Lazav mimicked with a bit of ventriloquism. “He might even kill himself in despair! But still, where did he go?”

“Alara. He has a base there.” 

Lazav braced himself, he found Tibalt’s mind on the roof and entered. It was excruciating, whatever this planeswalker was, it was obvious that he fed on others pain, and his meal swirling in his head was what hurt so much. But Lazav persisted, through the pain, he placed the idea of where on the plane of Alara Tezzeret was, and then left as soon as possible.

As ‘Jace’ and ‘Chandra’ rounded the corner, Lazav could feel the fiery mind of Tibalt vanish in a blaze of hate.


	4. Nicol Bolas, Great Promiser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter isn't that well written. I wanted to finish this little collection of short stories. And it could still use a Tezzeret chapter but oh well. Thanks for reading!

Nicol Bolas appeared suddenly, without warning. Yet Lazav didn’t flinch. They were in the old base of the infinite consortium, large carved walls large enough for even the large dragon to stand up in, next to Bolas, Lazav might as well be a well-painted toy.

“Greetings Nicol Bolas,” Lazav said bowing.

Nicol Bolas looked around the room and down at Lazav and sneered. “Your reputation precedes you, was it the handwriting?”

“If it was your writing, I did not recognize it. Thanks to the work of Ral Zarek I can trace the mana trail to other planes. The letter was sent from the same location as the one you sent to Vraska, the Ochran assassin.” Lazav straightened his weathered back as much as he could, craning his neck to look up into the dragons face.

“If even half the things Tamiyo told me were true, then you do not need my assistance. There would be nothing on Ravnica that could harm you.” Lazav continued in an even tone.

“I don’t play unless there is zero doubt of failure.” Bolas inspected his nails as if bored with the conversation. To an outsider, the conversation would have looked calm, but from the second Nicol Bolas had arrived he had begun an assault on Lazav’s mind. Bolas’ face soured as he lost.

There was no question, Nicol Bolas was the better telepath, yet Lazav won by presenting his numerous fail safes. His mind could never be picked, Bolas would have had to obliterate it. In the event of Lazav’s death, an information campaign would begin and all of Ravnica would know about Bolas and other planes in a matter of hours.

Nicol Bolas smiled a little, a cruel mirthless smile. “Very interesting… you learned much about me from Tezzeret.”

Lazav nodded and continued. “If you would like my help, what can you offer me?” Lazav’s voice carried no hint of a threat, yet his resolve showed through.

Bolas held his smile if that is what a smiling dragon looks like. “Godhood.” 

For the first time, Lazav flinched, imperceptible by the average eye. 

“I could give you a spark. Would you like Domri Rades? Or maybe a slightly more stable one in Ral Zareks? Maybe even Jace Belerens?” Lazav’s desire, greed, and envy radiated from him, his mouth salivating. He licked his lips.

“What can I do, master?”

Bolas smirked. “Simple, destroy the guilds, I want them at each other's throats, burning the city down before I even arrive. And when it comes to specifics, make sure that upon Vraska’s return within two years she is poised to seize the throne. Do this and I will reward you with what you most want.”

Lazav bowed, kneeling to the ground. “As you wish, master.”

Bolas gave one bark of laughter and in a whirl of sparks and black smoke disappeared, leaving Lazav standing there alone, thinking to himself.

Does he think I'm a fool? We made no contract, there was no explanation of how I would receive the spark. As far as I’m concerned it is impossible to steal a spark… it is impossible with Ravnican magic.

Lazav knew the dragon couldn’t be trusted, Lazav needed to act fast, he had at least two years, and his machinations to control all the guilds would need more time than that. He needed to survive the incoming war. He would survive.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I might add another chapter or two, maybe Tezzeret, maybe Lazav himself, but y'all shouldn't get your hopes up.


End file.
